Unveiled (20 page)

“Impossible.” Eunice Scott shuddered, then glared at the Pembertons. “There hasn’t been a Scott working as a menial since I was a girl. And the new Mrs. Scott, imposter or otherwise, cannot think of such a thing.”

“She might be working for one of our friends!” Ida Pemberton gasped. “Pass me the salts, Grace!”

“You couldn’t talk some sense into her?” Grace asked shortly, still staring at George in disbelief. “Did you explain?”

“Yes. I told her everything, just the way we discussed. That Fan isn’t coming back, that she is safe to assume her identity. The chit wouldn’t listen. Seems to feel the breach between herself and Christopher can’t be mended.”

Eunice nodded, aware that there was more to the story than that. She glanced at the others and shrugged. “My nephew spent the night in a gaming hall, and as of yet, hasn’t come home. Fan, I mean Katie, is on the train back to Philadelphia this morning. It seems they are hell-bent on destroying any chance of a marriage.”

“What is going on here?” Ella walked into the hotel sitting room, looking more fragile than ever. The morning sunlight made her curls glisten softly like angel hair, and her blue eyes looked ethereal, almost otherworldly. Carefully taking a seat in the middle of the group, she nodded to the waiter for tea and looked at them all with a peculiar, penetrating glance.

“What do you mean?” Grace asked nervously. “Everything is fine. We were just discussing—”

“Everything isn’t fine.” Ella cut her off imperviously. “When I wake up and hear Eileen crying in her room, see that Christopher hasn’t come home, then I know something is amiss. Now, why don’t you tell me what everyone else seems to know.”

Grace glanced at the others and shrugged. “You’re right, Ella. There’s no sense hiding the truth. Fan and Christopher have quarreled. Fan left this morning.”

“Ah.” Ella digested this, then glanced up once more. “Just this morning?” When they nodded in response, she continued questioning. “Has no one spoken to her? Tried to persuade her?”

“I have,” George said. “She won’t listen to reason. Fan seems to think she and Christopher will never make up, and given his disappearance last night, she may be right. We’ve done everything that we could.”

“Bring him to me.”

Grace looked at George, who frowned, puzzled. “But Ella, we’ve already tried—”

“Bring him to me. What nonsense is this, anyway? Two young people get married, and at the first simple argument, everyone is willing to let them call it quits. In my day, such a thing was unheard of. These young people have no sense of responsibility anymore. What kind of man lets his wife leave him after a simple misunderstanding? I want to see him. Now.”

George nodded, then retreated to find Christopher. Ella said nothing but accepted a cup of tea and sipped thoughtfully while the other Pembertons and the Scotts murmured among themselves. Senile, she might be, but Ella was still the family matriarch.

And the one who held the purse strings.

“Oh, my God, my head,” Christopher groaned, holding his aching forehead between his hands. “What the hell did I drink?”

“Everything.” Charles sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing his friend with sorely strained patience. “Whiskey mostly. Those bargirls know how to keep your cup full.”

At the mention of bargirl, Christopher’s brow furrowed and he glanced hastily at the bed beside him. Thankfully it was empty. A peacock plume dangled sinfully on the opposite pillow, but the pillow itself remained undented and there was no cloying scent of perfume or alcohol on the linens.

Seeing Christopher’s bewildered expression, Charles hastened to reassure him. “Nothing happened with the girl. I’m afraid the gentleman you were playing with was a bit of a riverboat gambler. You accumulated a sorry debt, then passed out from drinking, with plenty of help and encouragement. Lola and I put you into bed.”

“Thank God.” Christopher grimaced, then sank back into bed, obviously in pain. “If that’s the case, then why are you here? I don’t have any pressing appointments.”

“Ella Pemberton wants to see you right away. Eunice says if I didn’t bring you back, she’d come for you herself. I figured out of the two of us, you’d sooner tolerate my company.”

“Thanks.” Christopher groaned again. “Ella? What does she want?”

“I don’t know, but I suggest you make yourself ready. That is one lady I wouldn’t care to cross. There’s much more to her than everyone thinks.”

“You’re right about that.” Christopher forced himself away from his bed and yanked on his clothes. Pressing a cold cloth to his face, he glanced into the mirror, groaning yet again when he saw his appearance. “God, I could haunt houses today. Oh, I have to see Mr. Oldacre before I go.”

“I took care of it,” Charles said slowly, seeing Christopher’s expression turn cautious.

“The debts? All of it?”

Charles nodded. “Mr. Oldacre grew concerned when you began drinking too much. He was afraid you wouldn’t be able to honor your debt. Apparently he began asking questions. For the sake of your reputation, I thought it better if I paid.”

Christopher stiffened, then turned to his friend slowly. “Then you know.”

Charles nodded. “I’m sorry. I know how embarrassing this must be for you. But I surmised as much from Eunice and Ella’s conversation.”

“It’s a damned shame when a man’s misfortune becomes public news,” Christopher said bitterly. “When will they learn to keep their mouths shut?”

“They didn’t mean anything,” Charles said gently. “They are both concerned. Chris, if a few dollars will help you get through—”

“Thanks.” He laughed shortly. “But it will take more than a few dollars to dig me out of this mess. Christ, nothing is ever the way it seems to be. First the investments. Then this marriage. And Fan.”

The pain on his face was obvious. Charles nodded and spoke cautiously. “You know, she’s gone. I understand she left for Philadelphia. Ella is distraught, and Eunice is furious.”

“Philadelphia?” Christopher digested this for a moment and stared at Charles in disbelief. “What does she think she’ll do there? Did she say anything about her plans?”

“Not a word, but I suppose you can guess. Whatever she did before, I imagine. Frankly I’m worried about her. I don’t know what her past is, or what kind of life she had, but she must have been desperate to resort to posing as another woman.”

“She’ll survive,” Christopher said bluntly, but his face betrayed concern.

“Sure, I suppose she will. Maybe. It isn’t easy for a woman out there with no resources, which I assume she hasn’t. Other than the name Mrs. Scott, she hasn’t taken anything else with her.”

Christopher winced. It was true; Katie was still his wife, like it or not. And Mrs. Scott was out there somewhere, on a train to a city that didn’t love immigrants, despite its name. Would she really go back to scrubbing floors or worse? Could he bear the thought?

“Katie will do what’s best for her, just as I will. I appreciate your concern, Charles, but at the moment it’s misplaced.”

“Right,” Charles said coldly. Christopher picked up his good wool coat and indicated the door.

Katie was a problem he’d have to deal with. And it all boiled down to trust.

F
OURTEEN

T
he odor of boiled ham and cabbage stung her nostrils as she walked through the door of the two-story row house, and Katie breathed deeply of the welcome scent. She stood there for a moment, taking in the well-worn sofa, the lace shawl draped over the back of it to hide the wear, the candlelight struggling to illuminate dark corners, and the gin bottle waiting welcomingly by the table. A rosary dangled from a lamp, and a score of books, dog-eared from being read and reread, waited invitingly by the couch. She was home.

They were all there, gathered around the table, laughing, arguing, and joking, their food quietly disappearing at the same time. Katie’s eyes filled as she saw her grandfather and her aunt, but her gaze went swiftly to the little boy at the end of the table.

Clad in pants that were an inch too short and preoccupied with shoveling food into his mouth, he grinned at something her grandfather said, then gulped his milk with abandon.

Sean. Katie thought her heart would burst as she stood in the doorway, watching her son. Although he had grown since she’d last seen him, every freckle on his face, every strand of the glistening blond hair, every scrape on his muscular little body was etched into her soul. She had to take a deep breath, overcome with emotion and longing.

It was as if he sensed her. Sean put down his spoon and turned quickly, then his little face lit up and he ran toward her, heedless of the chair that overturned or the milk that spilled. “What the hell—” her grandfather began, but his words were drowned with the plaintive cry of “Mama!”

Katie sobbed, her arms wrapped around his little body, her heart pounding. He felt so good, smelled so good, all dirt and sand and little boy. She could barely hear the others, the surprised questions and inquiries, and she didn’t care. She was holding her baby again, the way she’d dreamed so often, and none of it mattered.

“Sean. Sean.” Katie didn’t even try to stop the tears until she was sobbing so hard that her son looked up, alarmed.

“Mama? Aren’t you glad to see me?”

There was such serious concern in his tone that Katie had to laugh, then she buried her face against him. “Yes, I’m glad to see you. Very glad.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Katie smiled, wiping at her eyes. “Because I’m glad. Sometimes grown-ups cry when they’re happy.”

“I don’t want you to cry. Are you staying for good?”

The table grew quiet as the others waited for her answer. Katie ignored them and nodded, still holding her son. “Yes, I’m staying with you. For good.”

He beamed back at her, and once again she thought her heart would break. How could she have left him? Even though she knew it had been necessary, right now the thought seemed impossible. He was part of her, as necessary as breathing, and it had taken a major sacrifice on her behalf to try to give him a better life.

She smiled then, holding him back a few inches so she could really look at him. “These are your new pants…you’ve grown so much this summer!”

“Aunt Moira says I’m growing like a weed. Don’t you, Auntie?”

Katie smiled, then tore her eyes away and looked up at her family. They were waiting expectantly, allowing her time to become reacquainted with her son. It was her grandfather who spoke first, and his voice was thick with emotion.

“Come, lass, have some supper and we can talk then. Let your mother have something to eat, Sean.”

Katie went to the scarred and familiar table, seeing the questions in her aunt’s and grandfather’s eyes. She forced a smile, then accepted the plate that Moira handed her. Finally, when Katie was finished with her meal, she kissed Sean on top of his head and turned to the others.

“All right, ask.”

They both started at once, until her grandfather interrupted and cleared his throat. “Are you really home for good, Katie?”

She nodded. “Did you get the money I sent?”

“All of it.” Patrick smiled for the first time. “It bought new shoes for your son. Books for school. Pencils and paper. And even a few things for the house. ‘Tis well you managed to save so much. I know how dear things are down at the seaside.”

“It was all like a dream. Clothes like I never imagined. Food aplenty. Nice people. And they treated me well. Unlike…”

“Unlike folks here.” Moira slammed a dish then wiped her hands on a flannel. “Damned fools! Well, I’m glad you had a good summer, though the boy’s missed you something dreadful.”

“You had clothes? Nice gowns?” Sean sat closer, obviously entranced. “Did you keep them?”

“No, I left them. I only kept what was mine. I didn’t want any of them to say anything wrong later.”

“And the house?” Moira questioned softly. “You said it was grand. Tell us.”

Katie smiled and described the chandeliers, the enticing gardens, the well-equipped kitchens, and the lovely bedroom. The room was still as she spoke, and the O’Connors stared in wonder at the one who’d glimpsed Eden. Finally Patrick shrugged, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“It sounds like a grand place, for sure. Why then, Katie, did you leave?”

“Things didn’t work out.” Katie couldn’t bear to tell them the full extent of her deception. Her grandfather would have been appalled, and Moira further disillusioned. No, she would keep that much a secret. “I grew to really like Ella Pemberton, but there was a disagreement within the family about me. I thought it best if I left.”

“Ah.” Moira nodded wisely. “‘Tis a rare shame, that’s for sure. But it couldn’t go on forever. Nothing in this world does.”

Katie swallowed hard as she thought of Christopher. Strange, but her aunt had always been overly perceptive. At times she even seemed to have “the sight.” Still, she was right, and it was something she should have remembered. For Katie, at least, nothing good ever went on forever.

Patrick sat back and reached for his pipe. He lit it, then puffed thoughtfully. “Your brother is doing all right, though not as well as he’d have us believe.”